Chapter 2 - The Door That Locked
Detective Vance didn't understand what I meant at first.
"Let me hear what?"
"A recording."
Edward shouted from across the room.
"She's delirious!"
Nobody listened.
That was becoming my favorite thing about the hospital.
Nobody listened to Edward.
"Where is this recording?" Detective Vance asked.
"Online."
My mother closed her eyes.
That was when I knew.
She had suspected something.
Maybe not the recordings specifically.
But she had always known I watched.
Edward called it defiance.
Dad had called it attention.
"Pay attention, Phoebe. Numbers tell stories, but people do too."
My father, Daniel Sterling, had been a forensic accountant.
He could look at a thousand transactions and find the one payment that didn't belong.
I could look at my mother and see the same thing.
One reaction that didn't belong.
And hers was fear.
Detective Vance took out her phone.
"Tell me how to access it."
"I need a computer."
A nurse brought a hospital laptop.
My hands shook so badly I mistyped the password twice.
The third time, the login screen changed.
A folder appeared.
STERLING FAMILY ARCHIVE
Detective Vance stared.
Inside were dozens of files.
Dates.
Times.
Durations.
Eighty-seven recordings.
The detective looked at me.
"How long have you been doing this?"
"Three months."
"Does anyone else have access?"
"I don't know."
That wasn't entirely true.
There was one person who might.
But I hadn't spoken to him in years.
Our uncle Marcus.
My father's younger brother.
The man Patricia had taught us to fear.
Detective Vance selected the newest recording.
My mother's voice exploded from the laptop speaker.
Clear.
Cold.
Impossible to misunderstand.
"Strike Phoebe first. She's the one who watches too closely."
Patricia made a strangled sound.
Edward stepped backward.
The police officers stopped talking.
For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was the recording.
Then Edward's voice:
"Patricia, turn the television up."
A click.
Footsteps.
Clara crying.
I couldn't listen anymore.
"Stop it."
Detective Vance immediately paused the recording.
Her expression had changed.
This wasn't suspicion anymore.
It was evidence.
"Separate them," she told the officers.
Edward started yelling.
Patricia started sobbing.
Neither helped the other.
That interested me.
People who share a lie are allies only until the truth arrives.
Then they become witnesses against each other.
Clara squeezed my hand.
"Phoebe."
I looked at her.
Her eyes were open.
And there was something in them I hadn't seen in months.
Not fear.
Urgency.
"The documents."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
"The birthday documents."
Detective Vance heard.
"What documents?"
Clara swallowed painfully.
"The audio isn't the worst part."
Edward went silent.
The detective turned toward him.
Then back to Clara.
"What is?"
Clara whispered:
"Phoebe found the legal documents for our eighteenth birthday."
My mother's face lost all color.
And that was the moment Detective Vance realized the violence might never have been only about control.
It might have been about money.
A lot of money.
May you like
Enough money for someone to kill for.
